El árbol de la Armada Española
A finales de mayo de 1588, ciento treinta barcos, conocidos en la historia como la Armada Española, zarparon de Coruña, en la costa norte de España. Fondearon frente al puerto francés de Calais esperando un encuentro con el ejército del duque de Parma cuando debían cruzar el canal e invadir Inglaterra. (1)
(...) El cuerpo de un joven marinero español arrastrado apareció en una pequeña playa de arena en un lugar llamado Ballygally en el condado de Antrim. Su cuerpo fue llevado una milla tierra adentro y enterrado en el cementerio de Cairncastle.
En sus bolsillos llevaba castañas, que siguen siendo un aperitivo favorito en todo el Mediterráneo y un regalo navideño para nosotros. Una de las castañas germinó y creció un poderoso castaño español, especie no autóctona de estas costas. El árbol permaneció en pie durante más de cuatrocientos treinta años, hasta junio de 2020, cuando literalmente se derrumbó debido a su vejez.
The Spanish Armada Tree
Four hundred and thirty two years ago almost to the day
I was washed up on the sandy shore of Ballygally bay
In the pocket of a sailor fighting for the Spanish king
Against the cruel weather and the English virgin queenThe poor sailor had drowned at sea and never got to taste
My sweet chestnut flesh, but I did not go to waste
I survived that wretched journey from the sunny coast of Spain
And found myself in Ireland starved by cold and rainAnd there I might have died myself, shrivelled in my skin
But they buried that poor sailor and me along with him
I shivered in that cold, wet ground so far away from home
Praying for the sun to warm the fertile, peaty loamNext spring I poked my head up, I never felt so brave
But I was greeted by a wind that was colder than the grave
How I longed for my homeland of oranges and heat
Where the olive groves are fragrant and all the chestnuts sweetBut here I grew undisturbed, but for the Irish weather
My roots consumed the flesh and bones and boots of Spanish leather
Of my unwitting sailor friend, unworldly and unlearned
Who thought he would consume me, oh how the tables turnedI’ve seen many things in my long life, who hasn’t I suppose
But for every question answered a hundred more were posed
From this tranquil churchyard I saw wars and famine rage
The greed and foolishness of man is etched on every pagePerhaps I should be grateful it was man’s folly brought me here
But so far away from my homeland the price I paid was dear
Alone I stood without the hope that ever there might be
A sapling growing somewhere from seed passed on by meI am not a common Conker tree that Irish school boys climb
I am a sweet Spanish Chestnut estranged from my own kind
And though from all the native trees I have stood apart
From the singing of the Chaffinch and Blackbird I took heartThe Robin through dark winter days, noisy Rooks in spring
What joy each Sunday morning to hear the people sing
I have stood against the wind and rain my boughs have creaked with snow
But still and all my ancient heart never failed to growFor no matter where you find yourself you must do the best you can
Be you Sweet Spanish chestnut tree or native Irishman
And now, alas, my time has come, as to everything it must
To you my fellow beings my old wooden heart I trustMake something useful out of me, a bower or a seat
Where pilgrims take a moment to sit down and rest their feet
And let the children climb and play while you remember me
And tell them all the story of the Spanish Armada Tree
El árbol de la Armada Española
